


Every Brother that's Caught in the Crossfire

by goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindness, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Cruelty, Crying, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Castiel (Supernatural), Graphic Description of Corpses, Hell, Horror, M/M, Pain, Partial Mind Control, Permanent Injury, Psychological Torture, Sadism, Time Travel, Torture, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:48:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople/pseuds/goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople
Summary: "Can I trust what I'm given when faith still needs a gun?Whose ammunition justifies the wrong?And I can't see from the backseatSo I'm asking from aboveCan I trust what I'm given, even when it cuts?So, Heaven, if you sent us downSo we could build a playgroundFor the sinners to play as saintsYou'd be so proud of what we madeI hope you got some beds around'Cause you're the only refuge now"- Stephen, "Crossfire"





	1. Hell

**Author's Note:**

> In the spirit of Halloween, here is the first chapter of the most twisted story I have ever written. Readers familiar with my work in other fandoms may have noticed that I usually don't post one chapter at a time, for I do have a strong preference for posting finished products, and I intended to have this entire story finished in time for Halloween, for as disturbing and gruesome as this first chapter is, the story becomes even more horrific in later chapters. The only problem is that I have not written those chapters yet. Now, I will shamefully admit that I have rushed to post some stories before reading them to my friends, and I therefore have had to edit and improve them after I'd already posted them once I received the highly necessary feedback and constructive criticism on them from my lovely friends who are attentive listeners and fantastic contributors with their various insights, but those stories were generally lighter in theme and tone. For this story, I have decided to prioritize quality, which means that I will be updating it with a new chapter weekly. It will not be rated until it earns its Explicit rating. The tags will also be updated as they become applicable, but I will not post new warnings with each chapter. I do not recommend this story to the faint of heart. It is extremely heavy on abuse. Some may relate; some may choose to read out of curiosity or morbid fascination. Horror is a popular genre, after all. Do not read this if you know that there is a risk that it may traumatize you, for that risk is EXTREMELY HIGH. I will delete any comments from anyone who disregards this warning.

Her agonized wail pierced Dean's brain with an even sharper precision than his knife pierced her flesh. He did not know the woman's name, for Lucifer had advised him as soon as Alistair had handed Dean the blade never to ask the new souls questions, unless Dean wished to continue undergoing torture even as he administered it.

"STOP! PLEASE!" she sobbed as she felt the merciless blade carve open the sole of her foot.

Dean slid the blade beneath the edge of her toenail that barely protruded past her big toe, the tip of the blade pressing against where the nail met the flesh. Slowly, methodically, painstakingly sadistically, he carved each and every toenail from her foot. He watched them fall to the cold, stone floor in thin waterfalls of blood; slender, crimson tendrils dripped onto the cinereal floor and onto the discarded nails. He dragged his knife up her body in a deep trail of blood that ran down her legs and down her torso, which was already badly mutilated. He did not press so deeply when he reached her neck. He could feel her trembling against the blade, the tendons in her neck visibly tensing and quivering. Of course, she could not die again, but the impossibility of death clearly did not eliminate her fear of it. Dean slowly sunk the serrated edge into her tender neck. He continued to sink the knife deeper as blood poured from the wound like a font. He began to saw at her neck to dig the knife in even deeper until it was so deep that he severed her vocal cords. He caught sight of her bloodshot, glassy eyes that glinted like his blade did in the meagre light. It was almost instinctive to slip the point of his knife beneath each of the soft orbs; it was as if they'd called his knife to carve them from their sockets, which now gaped empty and bloody. When Dean was finally done with his work - whether that meant once he was bored or satisfied, he no longer could tell - he unbound her from the altar and picked up the horrid body. He deposited her in the pile of others who hadn't yet healed from the torture of today. Tomorrow they would be restored to be desecrated anew.

"Good work."

Dean turned to face Lucifer at the sound of his voice echoing off the stone surroundings from behind him. He nodded in acknowledgment of his praise.

"I'm quite genuinely impressed."

"Why? This was far from my first time."

"Nevertheless, I am impressed that you were not moved by the scarring across her right breast and abdomen."

"Why would I have been?"

"Well, she died in a house fire. I thought that would have been obvious from the burns. That, in combination with her fair hair... Well, I'm just impressed that you were able to distance yourself."

Dean's heart felt like lead for a sudden moment before he quickly recovered. "It's not like she is my mother."

"I know, and I didn't mean to illuminate the similarities, but it seemed I had to explain why I was praising you. I think you're ready for your next victim."

"How many more are left today?"

"He can be your last until tomorrow."

"What's so special about him?"

Dean's question was answered when a boy came into the torture chamber, his bare feet nearly silent upon the cold, blood-stained floor. He looked timid and terrified at the same time, as though he both felt like he didn't want to be here and like he wasn't allowed to be here. He was naked, as all new souls who entered the chamber were, and he was already shivering in what was far more likely to be fear than any sort of physical discomfort. He couldn't have been more than five years old.

It took Dean several minutes to consciously register the sight before him. He had never seen a child here. "How old is he?" he whispered to Lucifer.

"The less you know about the new souls the better, remember?"

"Yes, but... He looks like he's four or five years old. Isn't seven the age of reason? How is he capable of sin? Why is he here? He doesn't belong here."

"I alone decide who belongs here. Children may surprise you."

"I - I don't care! He's a child! This has to be a mistake."

"I can assure you that I do not make mistakes," Lucifer said coldly before he abruptly strode from the room, leaving Dean alone with the boy.

Dean saw on the boy's face the instant he caught sight of the temporary corpses. He winced as the boy screamed in the most bloodcurdling horror and fell, sobbing, to his hands and knees before tucking his knees under his arms, against his chest, as he fell onto his side and shoved his thumb in his mouth to attempt to calm and comfort himself, though he continued to cry. Dean walked over to the boy and picked him up easily. He placed him on the altar in the way that had become so perfunctory by now. Prying his limbs away from his tiny body proved far more difficult than he would have anticipated.

"STOP! MOMMY! DADDY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK! PLEASE, I'M SORRY!"

"Shhh, shhh. Okay. Hey, stop. Stop, okay? What did you do? Why're you here?" Dean asked in a whisper as he hovered over the hysterical boy.

The boy just screamed unintelligibly in answer, refusing to open his eyes again as tears adhered his lashes together.

Dean sighed. He picked his blade up from where he'd left it near the foot of the bloodied altar. As he lacerated the boy, he tried to imagine that he wasn't real, or perhaps that this wasn't so different from butchering a calf. This was just a part of the natural order of things in Hell. He doubled over as he expelled bile all over the floor next to the altar. Fuck. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. He was less than halfway through his work, but he was so repulsed by what he'd already done. The room began to spin as the boy's tortured wails grew horribly distorted. Everything sounded like it was underwater, but Dean's head hurt as though he'd been traversing a desert without respite for days on end. Fuck. He needed to lie down. Right now. He lowered himself to his knees upon the floor to feel a little less vulnerable to collapsing involuntarily. “LUCIFER!” It felt like hours, every second extended by agony, before Dean was answered.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Ah!” Dean grunted in anguish. “… I need to lie down.”

“Why?”

“I don’t feel good.”

“I can see that. Why not?”

“The boy… I can’t.” Dean broke down in tears so suddenly that he was almost startled. The sobbing was uncontrollable, and in his slightly delirious state, he almost felt like he was bathing in his own tears, for they were so overwhelming.

Lucifer regarded his best torturer with disdain for the first time since Dean had accepted Alistair's offer. He thought that Dean had become better than this, that he had finally conquered his own humanity. He had honestly thought that Dean was ready for this task. Lucifer was extremely disappointed by Dean’s stubborn empathy that apparently hadn’t been snuffed out by all of the heinous atrocities he’d committed and which he even seemed to enjoy at times. Lucifer sighed heavily. There was no point in ordering Dean to complete his task; there was no point in expecting Dean to return to these sorts of tasks tomorrow, or ever, for Lucifer had seen this before. Sometimes, torturers broke. It happened very rarely, but when it did, they were never the same again. Even if they tried to return to their station, their torture inevitably became softer. They never fully recovered, and Lucifer had no use for weakness. He knew someone who did, however. “Come, Dean,” he soothed as he lifted the man to his feet and led him to a room where he could rest comfortably. Lucifer set Dean down upon a bed in an extremely minimalist room, a room whose sole purpose appeared to be for resting, for there was no other furnishing. Lucifer returned to the torture chamber to finish off the boy. It had been some time since he had tortured anyone personally, and although it partly felt like a demeaning task, he couldn’t deny the glee that ignited inside him as the boy writhed in pain and shook in fear. When Lucifer finally retired to the tranquil privacy of his room, he called upon his brother.

“Yes, Lucifer?” Castiel answered in greeting as he appeared before his elder brother.

“As per our agreement, I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Lucifer rolled his eyes and affected an exaggerated air of trouble. “He was my best. So, naturally, I thought he would be ready for a rare soul: a youth. Alas, he was not.”

Castiel smiled broadly. “Are you being sincere, brother? It has been so long!”

Lucifer nodded. “Your last found her rest in Heaven over a century ago, if I recall. It always pains me to know that once they leave, they are almost certainly bound to find their way to Heaven, having learned from Hell and their experiences that led them here, but the broken ones are dead weight and a burden to me, and it is somewhat consoling to know what they will suffer at your will on Earth after their resurrection.”

Castiel clasped his brother’s hand in gratitude. “Thank you, truly. What is his name?”

“Dean Winchester.”


	2. Resurrection

Dean awoke to complete darkness. The air felt stifling, as though there wasn't enough of it. What happened last night? Had Lucifer not lain him in a bed in a comfortable room? Where the hell was he now? Dean dug his lighter from his pocket and flicked it on. He coughed before gasping, "Help!" He called for help a few more times, but it was to no avail. The scent of pine was overwhelming. Was he in a box? Dean struck whatever was atop him: it was a box. Well, shit. He hastily flicked off his lighter and put it back in his pocket. He kicked and struck the box until finally it gave way. The earth above the grave was loose and came apart fairly easily as Dean dug himself up to the surface. He inhaled the fresh air with the thirst that could be expected of someone who'd been starved of it for months. What... the hell? He appeared to be in a forest, except it was completely demolished. This couldn't be good. Dean wandered for only a short time before he came across an empty gas station where he could finally nourish himself a bit. He lifted his shirt to examine himself when he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. His body was in perfect shape, except... He gasped when he saw the shocking mark that appeared to be burned into the skin of his shoulder. It was shaped like a large human hand. He scrutinized it intensely as he wondered what the hell it could possibly mean. He started slightly when the radio turned on without apparent prompting. He switched it off. Then the other electronics began crackling to life.

Castiel observed Dean with amusement as the man sprinkled salt all along the windowsills and doorways. He didn't wish to reveal himself to Dean yet, for he decided that a grander entrance would be more fitting to the story on which he planned to sell Dean, but he decided to try speaking to him.

Dean fell to the ground and tried to block his ears as a horrible distorted ringing assailed them. He fled from the gas station as shards flew from the windows at the intensity of the sound. He ran until he found a payphone. He immediately dialed Sam's number, but it had apparently been disconnected. Hopefully he'd have better luck with Bobby's. "Bobby!" he greeted in a slight panic.

"Who is this?"

It was so reassuring to hear Bobby's gruff voice after all this time. "It's me - Dean!"

"This ain't funny!" 

"Bob-" The line was dead. Fuck. Dean dialed again. "Bobby, listen to me!"

"Call one more time and I'll kill ya," Bobby said with conviction before abruptly hanging up again.

Shit. Looked like he'd have to go there in the flesh. Dean easily hotwired the first parked car he saw and drove it to Bobby's. He knocked on Bobby's door. He barely got out a greeting before Bobby tried to kill him, apparently convinced that he was a shapeshifter or a revenant. Once Dean finally managed to calm Bobby down and pass his tests to prove he was human, he asked him about Sam.

"Aw, I haven't seen Sam in months," Bobby muttered.

"... What?"

"Well, after you died, he insisted on going off on his own. Kept talking about how he was gonna bring ya back."

"Aw, crap," Dean muttered as he smoothed a hand down his face in dismay.

"What?"

"Oh, he got me back alright. But whatever he did, it is BAD mojo."

"Whaddaya mean?"

Dean explained the unnerving state of his gravesite and the unnatural presence in the gas station. He and Bobby booked it straight to Sam once they located him in a seedy motel via his phone's GPS tracker. After proving once more that Dean was really himself, he folded his arms across his chest and sternly inquired of his brother, "What'd it cost? Was it just your soul or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam asked.

"That's exactly what we think," Bobby confirmed.

"Well, I didn't," Sam said, visibly offended, although he really had no right to be, for he went on when Dean met his answer with doubt so vehement it was vitriolic: "I tried, okay? I tried to bring you back, but no demon would deal! I wish I HAD done it, but I didn't! I - I couldn't. You were dead, and I... I couldn't do anything." A heavy silence hung in the room amidst the three men as Sam tried to stoically quell the urge to cry.

"Well," Bobby said, finally breaking the silence, "I'm glad that Sam's soul remains intact, but this does raise a sticky question."

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "If he didn't pull me out, then who did?"

"And why?" Bobby added. "No demon or other creature is settin' you free outta the goodness of their heart."

Apprehension grew within Dean at Bobby's words and at the gravity of what they implied. He almost wished he'd stayed in Hell. Almost.

"I know a psychic who can help us out," Bobby suggested. "Pamela Barnes. Best damn psychic in the country."

"Well, then, let's go," the Winchesters eagerly agreed.

Once they arrived at Pamela's house, she set up a séance. The four joined hands seated in a circle at a table and Pamela laid one of her hands upon the burned handprint on Dean's shoulder. She began chanting the invocations until she was answered. "Castiel?"

"Castiel?" Dean echoed.

"Its name," she answered before she resumed speaking to the otherworldly creature, who was telling her to turn away. "No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy. I invoke, conjure, and command you to show me your face. I invoke, conjure, and command you to show me your face."

Castiel did not appreciate being invoked, conjured, or commanded to do anything, especially when he had intended to introduce himself on his own terms. He was insulted by the nerve of this woman. She wanted to see him so badly? Fine.

"AHHHHHHH!" Pamela screamed as the flames of the candles upon the table rose high into the air as a blinding, burning sensation vastly more intense than any earthly fire assailed her eyes. She fell to the ground as the three men rushed to her. "I can't see," she sobbed when she opened her eyes.

"Call 911!" Bobby ordered Sam as he and Dean held onto Pamela.

Castiel watched the whole scene unfold with self-righteous satisfaction. His plans to greet Dean privately and on his own terms were thwarted once more, however, when much later that night, he was summoned into a barn by Bobby. He decided to make the best of the situation: he rattled the shingles on the roof with the force of a gale. He privately beamed with the powerful thrill that shot through his being at the sight of the naked fear on the hunters' faces as each light under which he walked with a deliberately unnerving calmness exploded in a shower of sparks. He continued to advance upon the hunters as they shot him frantically. He smirked when Dean stabbed him. He touched two fingers to Bobby's forehead to put him to sleep when he tried sneaking up behind Castiel.

"Who are you?" Dean asked as calmly and confidently as he could.

"Castiel. I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah, I figured that much," Dean retorted snarkily. "I mean what are you?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord."

"Get outta here. There's no such thing. What are you really?"

"I just told you," Castiel said as he met Dean's defensive eyes with a puzzled stare.

"Well, I'm not buyin' what you're sellin.'"

"This is your problem, Dean," Castiel said solemnly as he allowed his wings to cast their glorious shadow upon the walls. He gazed earnestly into the hunter's eyes. "You have no faith. Good things do happen, Dean."

"Not in my experience."

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked with truly convincing sympathy and concern. "You don't think you deserve to be saved," he said quietly, like it was a private, profound realization between just the two of them.

"And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Dean challenged.

"Because God commanded it." It wasn't entirely a lie, Castiel reasoned to himself, for in any way that mattered, he was about to become Dean's God. This man was his to do with as he pleased, this man who, although he had required some convincing, believed Castiel to be as holy as he was divine.


	3. It Begins

Castiel silently sat upon Dean's bed as he watched the man sleep. He'd been somewhat surprised by Dean's abrasiveness when he met him two days ago. Had Lucifer not claimed he was weak? Broken? Perhaps Lucifer's standards of brokenness were different from Castiel's. He loved his fallen brother, but Lucifer did occasionally disappoint. Castiel decided to help Dean along.

Dean's mind was engulfed in a calm, dreamless sleep. Suddenly, something slashed through his mind's vision like a knife. Screams rose in the distance of his imagination. A sense of dread had replaced the calm. Oh no. He knew where he was. He looked around him to see the tortured, mutilated, and desecrated bodies of souls over which he had been given reign. To his horror and astonishment, they rose to their feet, dreadfully deformed as they were, and rushed him. Their advantage in number enabled them to overpower him. Dean screamed for Sam as he had his first night in Hell as he was secured to the rack. He knew this torture was about to be worse than Alistair's, for these vengeful victims weren't just doing their job; they were exacting revenge. Dean had never been so terrified. His heart was beating so hard he honestly thought it might burst. But shit, that would just be too goddamn lucky for him if it did. His entire body was trembling so much that it created a disturbing weightless sensation, like he might fly off the rack if he wasn't secured. He braced himself for the torture to begin, filled with fear at the prospect. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, and then -

"Hello, Dean."

Dean awoke in a cold sweat very suddenly to see the angel sitting on his bed. He sat up as he threw the covers off himself in annoyance. "What, you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?"

"What were you... dreaming about?"

"Whaddaya want?" Dean scowled.

"You have to stop it."

"What? Stop wha-"

Castiel touched two fingers to Dean's forehead to transport him to Lawrence, Kansas in the seventies. It seemed drastic, but Dean needed to stop being so resistant. Castiel intended to put that smart mouth in check. Being as cryptic as possible in his answers when Dean questioned what was going on suited Castiel's intentions, for he intended to keep Dean guessing, to keep him dependent upon the angel for answers that he could only hope to receive. Castiel startled Dean when he appeared beside the man as he was driving.

"Tell me something," Dean said when he recovered from the jarring start: "Sam would've wanted in on this. Why not bring him back?"

"You had to do this alone, Dean," Castiel said after a moment of thought.

"And you don't care that he's tearing up the future looking for me right now?"

Castiel turned to face Dean, almost amused by the man's surety that his fraternal devotion was reciprocated. His voice was neutral, but he secretly took great pleasure in informing Dean, "Sam is not looking for you."

Dean tried not to let the angel's words bother him. "Alright, if I do this, then the family curse breaks, right? Mom and Dad live happily ever after and Sam and I grow up playing Little League and chasing tail?"

"You realize if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam... You'll never become hunters. And all those people you saved... will die."

"I realize," Dean said solemnly.

"And you don't care?"

"Oh, I care. I care a lot. But these are my parents. I'm not gonna let them die again. I can't. Not if I can stop it." Dean turned to Castiel, but the angel had already vanished.

Castiel didn't really give a flying fuck about Dean's sad backstory on how he became orphaned, nor about his plans to avoid becoming orphaned, but he returned right after the man failed to kill Azazel. He met Dean's watery gaze with one of sympathy, holding Dean's devastated stare for several moments before Castiel transported them both back to the present.

"I didn't stop it," Dean mourned once they were both back in the motel room. "I didn't stop any of it."

"You couldn't have." Dean had not been meant to stop Azazel, anyway, although he seemed to believe that that was the reason for what Castiel had just done. "Destiny can't be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination."

"Then why'd you send me back?" Dean asked brokenly.

The crack in Dean's voice was like sweet music to Castiel's ears. "Now you know what we know." Of course, he could very easily have TOLD Dean about his family history, but making him witness the deaths of both his maternal grandparents, filling him with the false hope that he could have saved his parents' lives and defeated Azazel, and making him hear from her own mouth his mother's unheeded desire to raise her children as anything but hunters had been so much more fun. And to think, this was just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters two and three are the only ones set in specific episodes. References to other episodes are made in other chapters, but they are far more divergent and original.


	4. Opportunity

"What the hell, Cas," Dean griped when he awoke to see the angel sitting on the edge of his bed again.

"Hello, Dean. How are you feeling?" Castiel asked in the quiet darkness of the motel room.

"Why do you wanna know?" Dean retorted defensively.

"Well, yesterday couldn't have been easy for you."

Dean swallowed thickly. He was silent for a few moments before regaining his brusque composure and dismissing, "I've been through Hell, Cas."

"But that's not the same as watching your family die," the angel countered.

Dean sighed. "Honestly, that wasn't the worst part."

"Oh?" Castiel prompted, disguising his excited intrigue as concern.

"No," Dean muttered. "The worst part was learning that Dad wanted to avenge Mom more than he cared to honour her."

Castiel watched a solitary tear roll down the man's stubbled face in the silence that joined their conversation. "Are you saying that you would not have done the same thing as your father if the person in the world whom you most loved were murdered by a demon?"

"Not if he didn't want me to, no."

"He? You're referring to your brother?"

"Well... Yeah. Who else?"

"You're sure about that?"

"Yeah. I am. It doesn't matter, though, because I'm pretty sure Sam would want me to avenge him."

"Why do you say that?"

"We're hunters. Killing demons is what we do. And I know it's what he'd do for me."

"Where is your brother, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, feigning acceptance of the fact that he did not know. "Aren't you supposed to be omniscient or something? Shouldn't you know?"

"I know," Castiel confirmed. "Do you wish to?"

The angel's grave tone made Dean uneasy, heightening both his curiosity and his dread. He buried his face in his hands as he sat up fully near the head of the unmade bed. "I don't know," he admitted quietly after a moment.

"He's headed down a dangerous road, Dean. I'm afraid that if he gets worse, there will be only one way to stop him."

"... What do you mean?" Dean asked apprehensively.

Castiel sighed. This was almost too easy. He could not believe his fortune that his new toy's greatest vulnerability was so broken already. He affected a heavy air of reluctant resignation as he gazed intently upon the wide, worried eyes of the elder Winchester brother and said gravely, "If I show you your brother, and then bring you back here... You must promise me that you will maintain your composure." Without waiting for Dean's agreement, Castiel touched two fingers to the man's forehead and transported them both to the parking lot of a diner wherein, from the window, they observed Sam torturing and exorcising demons using his own demon traits.

Dean's heart leapt in his chest as his eyes widened in fear and disbelief at the sight. "No," he whispered.

"You love your brother," the angel stated in a tone that presented the statement as a sad, regrettable fact for which he nevertheless admired Dean, his words dripping with sympathy.

"Of course," Dean whispered in a broken rasp. "Cas... What the hell do I do?" he asked as he turned to look at the angel with tears shining like rare gems in his panicked eyes.

"Let's go back to the motel room," Castiel decided as he touched two fingers to Dean's forehead once more. The two now stood only inches from one another in the dim motel room where the only light that silhouetted the room was the grey daylight leaking from the overcast sky outside the grimy window that was rattling softly in its frame from the sharp breeze. "What do you wish to do?" he asked, his grave voice mingling in the air with the stale stench of cigarette smoke.

Dean swallowed thickly as he blinked the tears from his eyes. "I... I don't know. I need to stop him, obviously... I - I want to smack some fucking sense into him! God! How could he DO this?" Dean fumed as he ran his hands through his own hair, tugging on it in frustration as he began to pace around Castiel in the narrow space between the beds.

Castiel stood silently as he observed Dean's agitation.

"You know what?" Dean said after several moments, abruptly stopping in his tracks and releasing his hair to point at Castiel. "Bobby. Bobby will know what to do."

"You don't think I know what to do?" Castiel countered in a mild tone.

"Well... Do you?" Dean asked, hopeful.

"Yes." Someone like Sam Winchester could be a very valuable asset to Castiel's eldest brother, could in fact be his most valuable living human asset. Castiel had no intention of permitting Dean to try to sway Sam from the gloriously dark path upon which he'd embarked entirely of his own volition, without any divine nor demonic interference. Castiel was, however, mildly curious to see how Dean and Bobby would attempt to reform Sam. And then, of course, there was the greatest benefit in all of this...

"Well, what is it, then?" Dean asked when the angel hesitated to elaborate.

"You need to trust him."

"WHAT? TRUST him? What the hell do you mean? He's practically a goddamn DEMON, Cas!"

"I'd hate to see how quickly you'd turn on people you don't love more than anything," Castiel said snidely.

Dean sighed. "Trust him...?" he muttered, bewildered.

"Do you trust me?"

"Well, yeah," Dean immediately answered, "but you're not -"

"So, prove it. Trust me when I tell you to trust him."

Dean clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply as he shut his eyes. "I'm gonna call Bobby," he declared after a few moments. "You've got too much faith, Cas. It's not that I don't trust you; I just... I at least need to catch Bobby up to speed."

"I understand." Castiel stood silently as Dean spoke to Bobby on his cell phone. He suspected that Dean trusted him, but verbal confirmation almost tempted Castiel to betray his impassive demeanour. Castiel didn't really care about Sam's predicament, but with Dean's will and judgment compromised by distress, combined now with Dean's need for someone to trust and rely upon in Sam's place, there was in essence no limit to the fun Castiel would have with the poor man.

"Okay," Dean sighed as he clicked off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. "Bobby's on his way." Dean sat down on the edge of one of the beds and planted his elbows above his knees to clasp his hands behind his neck as he hung his head in silence, staring vacantly at the floor.

The two waited, motionless and silent, for over ten minutes before there was a loud rap upon their door, which caused Dean's head to jerk up and causing, as well, a temporary acceleration in his pulse. He quickly strode over to the door and opened it to Bobby's grave, concerned countenance.

Castiel stood listening to the men argue in hushed shouts and heated whispers about Sam's affliction, but he wasn't paying very much attention. Rather, he was paying only enough attention to glean what insights would serve as advantages to his intended ends. His ears caught something about imprisoning Sam in Bobby's panic room, but the conversation wandered, especially when it became more heated, and what interested Castiel more than Dean's and Bobby's plans were the parts of the conversation that strayed into the past. Dean had practically raised Sam, and Bobby had practically raised Dean. Fortunately for the angel, both men were too engrossed in their conversation to notice the faintest hint of a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of the celestial miscreant's mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Context/ references:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKtE0l0J0uA&feature=share
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tNR539OpQk&feature=share
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5BkQk1hiFA&feature=share
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xefAiGbZ_b0&feature=share
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> https://youtu.be/t8RKC4bMBK0
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmNoiV9x1aM&feature=share
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ftfG5fQMXw&feature=share
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBX_C1FLCUA&feature=share
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> https://youtu.be/3POm9qT1d_8
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> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODiXK1QUlEA&feature=share
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OajuOL470ho&feature=share
> 
> https://youtu.be/k97lxeH9Pcs


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